


leap of faith

by remy (iamremy)



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s08e11 Nobody's Fault, Episode: s08e12 Chase, Episode: s08e20 Post Mortem, Getting Together, M/M, Season/Series 08, foreman has Feelings about chase leaving, it all works out, taub is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25638787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/remy
Summary: The two of them stand shoulder to shoulder in silence, eyes fixed on Chase.“Black male, thirty-seven years old,” House says quietly. “History of control freak behavior, annoying tendency to be a wet blanket. Presents with selective mutism and cowardice. DDX, go.”
Relationships: Robert Chase/Eric Foreman
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	leap of faith

**Author's Note:**

> yet another fic where chase and foreman get together. what can i say, these two took over my mind and now i'm hyperfixated ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> this was meant to be a coda to _nobody's fault_ , and then it just kind of... mutated. oh well, it was fun to write, and i hope it's just as fun to read!

Foreman returns from the bathroom to find House standing just outside the door to Chase’s room, leaning heavily on his cane as he watches him through the clear glass. He looks pensive, almost troubled, and every now and then his eyes flick to the monitor displaying Chase’s vitals.

Instead of entering the room, Foreman goes to stand next to House. The man makes no acknowledgment of Foreman’s presence, and so Foreman doesn’t speak either. The two of them stand shoulder to shoulder in silence, eyes fixed on Chase.

The hospital is always dark at this time of night; now, though, it feels haunted. Foreman has spent countless nights in this place – in the lab, in the OR, sometimes even in his office – but he has never felt the loneliness and dark of nighttime this acutely before. The rain outside doesn't help – it makes the place feel colder and darker than it really is.

House finally speaks, a few minutes after Foreman has joined him. “Black male, thirty-seven years old,” he says quietly. “History of control freak behavior, annoying tendency to be a wet blanket. Presents with selective mutism and cowardice. DDX, go.”

Foreman exhales slowly. “What are you trying to say?” he asks, voice just as low.

“Why’d you bring Cofield in?” House counters. His gaze never wavers from the monitor in the room.

“You know why,” Foreman answers. He puts his hands in his pockets. His shoulders hurt; he’s been wound tight all day, stressed beyond belief, and now everything from his neck to his lower back aches fiercely.

“I want the real reason,” House says. “I know you think this was my fault too. Man up and say that to me next time instead of bringing in someone else to do it for you.” His tone lacks its usual bite, but his words are no less sharp for it.

“I don’t think this was your fault,” Foreman tells him honestly. “All things considered. If I blamed you, you'd already be back in jail.”

“Then?” demands House.

“I don’t think it was Chase’s fault either, or Adams’,” Foreman says.

“Had to be _someone’s_ fault.”

Foreman shrugs, his shoulders and trapezius protesting at the movement. “Maybe. Dr. Cofield is the one who decides that.”

“Why not you?” challenges House. “Still not confident enough? Still going with training wheels on?”

“No,” Foreman answers shortly.

“Maybe you don’t trust your own judgment,” House says.

Foreman is quiet for a second. Then he says, “Or maybe I didn’t think I could be unbiased.”

House doesn’t react, which means he’s already aware of this. Sighing, Foreman continues, “Chase is my friend. My closest friend, I think. And you – you were my boss. I know the risks of working these cases, House. I know I’ve disagreed with your methods in the past, but… I’m too close to the situation. I can’t untangle it. I can’t decide who was wrong and who wasn’t.”

“Chase might never walk again,” House reminds him after a moment. “That doesn’t upset you?”

“Of course it does,” Foreman says at once. “Why else would I be here, in the middle of the night?”

“So if you don’t blame Chase or Adams, and you don’t blame me…” House trails off, thoughtful.

Foreman waits.

“You blame yourself,” concludes House. “You think that somehow, you could have done something to prevent all this.”

Foreman remains quiet.

“Interesting,” says House. “Not you blaming yourself,” he adds, like he’s afraid Foreman might mistake him. “I saw that coming. You blame yourself because you think you should have kept a tighter leash on me, kept me in control somehow. Cofield’s probably told you the same thing.”

Foreman doesn’t confirm it, but his silence seems to be all the answer House needs.

“But you’ve also said that you don’t blame me,” House continues, “so it’s not my methods that you’re putting at fault here. It’s also not your lack of control over me.”

“Are you planning on getting to the point any time soon?” Foreman asks dryly. He’s used to House’s roundabout ways of explaining himself, of him thinking out loud till he reaches a conclusion, but right now it irritates him. It’s late at night, his entire body aches, and he’s so, so tired, and his best friend has just been stabbed in the heart. His brain feels incapable of processing anything else at the moment.

House hums thoughtfully. “It doesn’t make sense,” he says, after a pause. “You don’t blame yourself for giving me too much control. It would have been logical if you had, but you don’t. So why would… because you couldn’t protect him?”

Foreman takes a deep breath. “He’s not a child, House. And he’s not an amateur. He knew the risks going in. _I_ know the risks that everyone in your department faces. Why would I try to protect him from his literal job?”

“Exactly,” says House. “Why would you? It doesn’t make sense.”

“ _You’re_ not making much sense right now,” Foreman mutters, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t have the patience for House’s utter Houseness right now.

“Why are you here, Foreman?” House asks, changing track. In all this time, he hasn’t once taken his eyes off Chase, but now he turns and makes eye contact with Foreman. His gaze is unnervingly sharp. “Cofield left hours ago. Why haven’t you gone home?”

“I’m here for Chase,” Foreman begins.

House cuts him off. “Chase is going to sleep through the night. There are nurses here to make sure he’s not in pain, and that he’s got everything he needs. Adams and Park both took the night shift tonight to make sure they’re around in case something happens. So why are _you_ here?”

“I—” Foreman clears his throat, tries again. “He’s one of my best doctors—”

“And like I said, he’s covered,” House interrupts.

“He’s my friend,” Foreman tries again.

“And he’s covered,” House repeats.

Foreman falls silent again. He can feel a headache developing, and if he had to pinpoint a cause, it would be House, not the events of the day. “Will you get to the point, House?” he asks, making no effort to hide the tiredness in his voice. “I don’t have the energy to play your games right now.”

“No games,” House says with a shrug, turning back to look at Chase. “Just an interesting diagnosis.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Foreman asks, raising a hand to rub at his temples.

Instead of answering, House turns and claps Foreman on the shoulder in an infuriating farce of camaraderie. “You’ll get there,” he says, mock encouragement coloring his tone. “Write it down on a whiteboard, it might help.”

And with that, he releases Foreman’s shoulder and limps off, not turning back.

Foreman watches him go, forehead and temples throbbing, and then decides to deal with all of this later. He enters Chase’s room and sits down in the single chair by the bedside, angled so that he can watch both Chase and the monitors. Chase is fast asleep, chest rising and falling with each breath, and he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. Foreman watches morphine drip slowly into his IV and run down into his veins, and thinks that House, as usual, is right. Chase is covered.

So why is he here?

He doesn’t want to think like the Dean of Medicine right now. His job as Chase’s boss is to investigate what happened, and to make sure that his employee gets the best care possible. He’s done that. His job as Chase’s former colleague is to drop in, make sure he’s all right, and maybe get him some candy from the gift shop. He’s done that too, after reading the label thoroughly to ensure there’s no trace of strawberries in it.

His job as Chase’s friend is simple – be there for him.

Foreman doesn’t really know how to do that, beyond the things he’s already done. Cofield told him earlier that Chase regained some movement in his feet, and so Foreman’s already looked into physiotherapy options for him. He’s gone over the incident report a dozen times, and read through the surgery progress reports more than thrice. He’s read the embolectomy procedure notes so many times he’s practically got them memorized. He’s already contacted the in-house counsellor in case Chase needs someone to talk to, even though deep in his heart he knows Chase is not going to take him up on that.

Not that he can blame Chase or force him, not when he’s refused counselling himself in the past, after Kutner’s death.

He’s afraid, he realizes a moment later. He’s afraid that he’s going to lose Chase like how they’d lost Kutner. And Kutner had been his colleague, not his friend like Chase is. It had taken him weeks to get the image of Kutner’s lifeless body out of his mind. Now he looks at Chase, pale and looking unnaturally small somehow in the hospital bed, and he wonders how long it’ll be before he can close his eyes and not see Chase like this.

He wonders if this is what House meant. He tries to convince himself that it is. And deep down, he knows that it isn’t.

“Foreman?”

Chase’s voice is hoarse from sleep, and so low it’s almost lost under the hum of the machines. Still, it succeeds in jolting Foreman awake, and he opens his eyes to find Chase looking at him, bleary and confused.

“Hey,” he says quietly, leaning forward in the chair, and wincing when his back protests.

“Why’re you here?” Chase asks. His words come out slow, fatigued. “Didn’t you go home?”

Foreman shakes his head. “No.” He yawns, and checks his watch. It’s a few minutes past five. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not in pain,” Chase answers after a few moments.

“That’s good,” Foreman says. “Do you need anything? Water or something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Chase says. “Foreman, is everything all right?”

“What do you mean?” Foreman asks, frowning.

“I mean, you’re still here,” Chase replies. “And – I don’t know. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, nothing like that,” Foreman says at once. “There’s nothing to worry about, all right? You’re going to be fine.”

Chase considers that for a few moments, and then asks, “And if I’m not?”

Foreman goes still. “What do you mean?” he asks, just as quiet as Chase.

“What if I can’t walk again, Foreman?” Chase clarifies. “What if this is as good as it gets, and I’m never going to get better? What happens then?”

“It – it won’t come to that.” Foreman tries to sound firm, like he genuinely believes it. Going by the skeptical expression Chase is wearing, he doesn’t think he succeeds.

“It might, Foreman,” Chase says with a mirthless little laugh. “Come on. You’re a doctor, too. You know what the odds are. I might never be able to go into an OR again.”

“It won’t make you any less of a doctor,” Foreman says, with conviction, because _this_ he does believe. “Look, if it’s your job you’re worried about… Chase, it’s going to be fine.”

“House might fire me,” Chase points out.

“And I’ll hire you right back,” Foreman counters immediately.

“As _what_?” Chase asks. “I’m a _surgeon_ , Foreman, and I can’t do that if I can’t even stand! What else could you hire me as?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Chase,” Foreman says, frowning. “I get that it all looks hopeless right now, but a surgeon isn’t all you are. You’re an intensivist, and a damn good cardiologist too. You’ve got NICU experience as well. You’ll find something.”

“Easy for you to say,” Chase mutters bitterly. “You’re not the one that got stabbed in the heart.”

Foreman doesn’t reply. It’s not Chase talking, he knows that. It’s the pain, and the uncertainty of his future.

Chase seems to arrive at that conclusion too; he sighs, closing his eyes, and then opens them again to look apologetically at Foreman. “I’m sorry,” he says. “None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t— I mean, you don’t even have to be here. And you are, and I shouldn’t bite your head off for it.”

“It’s all right,” Foreman says, and gives Chase a small, reassuring smile. Then Chase’s words register, and he asks, “You really don’t think it’s my fault?”

“Of course it’s not,” Chase says at once. “How could it be?”

“House theorizes I blame myself,” Foreman tells him.

“House? He was here?” For a moment there’s a strange sort of raw hope in Chase’s eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with feigned nonchalance.

Foreman nods. “Some time ago.”

Chase looks away. “I don’t care,” he says, in the exact sort of tone that implies he cares a bit too much.

“You blame him?” Foreman asks quietly.

Chase shrugs one shoulder. Then he says, “It’s kind of pathetic, innit? I get stabbed in the heart and the only two people here are my arsehole of a boss, and _his_ boss.”

“I’m not here as your boss, or as House’s boss,” Foreman tells him. “I’m here as your friend, Chase. You still have those, you know.”

“I know,” Chase says, with an apologetic glance. “That didn’t come out like I meant it to.”

“It’s all right,” Foreman says again.

“So is he right?” Chase asks after a few seconds, changing topics. “House? That you blame yourself?”

“A little,” Foreman admits, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I keep thinking I should’ve prevented this somehow.”

Chase rolls his eyes at that, and Foreman won’t admit it, but it’s heartening to see him return to his old self, even if it’s at his expense. “Don’t be an idiot, Foreman. You can’t have seen this coming. No one did.”

“All the same,” begins Foreman.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Chase repeats.

Foreman considers him for a moment, and then smiles. “Fine, fine,” he says, giving in.

“Look,” Chase says. “This happened, and it sucks arse. I mean, take it from me.” He gestures up and down his body with one hand. “But it wasn’t your fault. Cofield will tell you that much, I’m sure.”

“Thank you,” Foreman says after a second. He doesn’t feel entirely absolved, not just yet, but hearing it from Chase helps immensely.

He doesn’t ask who Chase thinks is at fault here. Instead, he asks, “Hey, uh, is there anyone you want me to call for you?”

Chase shakes his head. “You know there isn’t, Foreman.”

“You don’t want me to tell your sister? Or, I don’t know, Cameron?” Foreman asks.

“No,” Chase says at once. “Look, my sister will freak, all right? I don’t want to do that to her, not when she’s so far away. And we only just began talking, I don’t want… I don’t want her to worry. And Cameron – I haven’t spoken to her in years, Foreman. It doesn’t make sense to call her now, especially when there’s nothing she can do.”

“Okay,” Foreman says. “Figured I'd ask anyway.” The part about Cameron makes sense to him, but not the part about keeping it from Chase’s sister. If it was his family, he thinks he’d want to know. Hell, he can’t imagine going through something like this and having to do it without his family.

It occurs to him, then, that that’s what Chase’s hang-up is. He doesn’t have a family, not really. His parents, even when they’d been alive, hadn’t done much parenting. He’s only recently reconciled with his sister, whom he’s got a painful history with. And he doesn’t have a girlfriend, or anyone else that would really care that he’s here, alone in a hospital bed, struggling with the possibility that his entire life might be flipped upside-down.

“You know you’re not alone,” he says quietly.

“What?” Chase asks, blinking like he didn’t hear.

“You’re not alone,” Foreman repeats, looking Chase in the eye so that Chase knows he means it, that it’s not just some mindless platitude. “You might not have any family members around, or a significant other, but you’ve still got your friends. You know Adams and Park took the night shift to stay around, just in case. They’re both napping in the doctors’ lounge instead of going home like they’re supposed to. And Taub keeps texting me every couple hours for updates. Wilson called, some time ago. Even House came down to see you.”

Chase is silent as he absorbs all this. Then he says, “And you.”

“And me,” Foreman agrees.

“Thank you,” Chase says quietly. “You know you don’t have to.”

“I know,” Foreman says. “I want to, though. I’d like to think you’d do the same for me. Hell, you _did_ do the same for me.”

(Years and years ago, when he'd gotten that _Naegleria_ infection – and he hadn’t even liked Chase back then – but he still remembers waking up in the middle of the night and finding Chase half-asleep in the chair in his room.

“Where’s my dad?” he’d asked, slow and painstaking.

Chase had started awake. “Found a hotel,” he’d told Foreman. “Said he’ll be back in the morning. Do you, uh, do you need anything?”

Foreman had shaken his head. “Why are you here?” he’d asked then.

“It’s my shift,” Chase had answered, like it was obvious. “I’m on call tonight.”

Foreman had nodded, and closed his eyes again. He’d been asleep again in seconds.)

“You remember that?” Chase asks, surprised.

“Of course I do,” Foreman says. “And I know you’d asked for that shift,” he adds. “You’d already worked during the day.”

“Yeah,” Chase says, with a slow smile. “I didn’t plan to, but your dad had been up for hours, and… he needed to rest. He didn’t want to leave you alone, so I offered to stay.”

“You didn’t have to,” says Foreman thoughtfully. “I mean, we didn’t even really like each other, back then.”

“I did it for your dad,” Chase tells him honestly. “And because – because no one should be alone in a hospital room,” he adds a second later.

“So think of this as me returning the favor,” Foreman says wryly, “except I’m doing it for _you_ , because we’re actually friends now.”

“We are, huh,” Chase says, smirking at Foreman. “You sure about that? Not gonna change your mind?”

“That ship sailed a long time ago,” snorts Foreman. “If I wanted to change my mind about us being friends, I would have done it when I’d found out you were messing with the BP machine.”

“Oh, when we had that bet!” Chase laughs. It’s a weak sound, and he winces when it presumably pulls at his stitches, but there’s mirth in his eyes and his expression is brighter, and Foreman finds himself smiling, too.

“Stupid damn bet,” he tells Chase. “You know House found me doing yoga in the balcony?”

“Seriously?” Chase asks, grinning.

“Yeah,” admits Foreman. “I was trying to calm down. I didn’t know you were messing with the BP machine, you little shit.”

“I also had a one-night stand,” Chase confesses, still grinning. “After you’d already lost, though,” he adds.

Foreman scoffs, and rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me as much as it should,” he says with an air of mock resignation. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

“So you’ve said,” Chase says. His smile turns into a yawn, and he raises a hand to cover it. “Christ, I’m tired.”

Foreman checks his watch. “It’s almost six. Get some sleep while you still can.”

Chase nods. “Yeah, I think I will.”

“You need anything?” Foreman asks.

“Nah, I’m good.” A pause, during which Chase attempts to get comfortable with his pillows. Then he asks, “What about you? You need to sleep too, Foreman.”

“I’m fine,” Foreman replies automatically.

“Go home,” Chase tells him patiently. “I know you’re tired, Foreman, you look dead on your feet. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Foreman asks uncertainly.

It earns him an eye-roll. “’Course I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Foreman says, and gets to his feet. He stretches, wincing at the strain in his back, and then yawns. He can envision his bed right now, warm and inviting, and suddenly he can barely wait to be in it, melting into the memory-foam mattress topper and the fluffy comforter.

“Take the day off,” Chase suggests.

“I can’t,” Foreman sighs. “Gotta be back for Cofield’s ruling. He’s punctual as hell.”

“Take the day off after that, then,” says Chase. “I’ll be fine,” he repeats the moment Foreman opens his mouth to reply.

“Okay, okay,” says Foreman, accepting his defeat. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“See you later,” echoes Chase, and smiles tiredly at him as he slips out of the door.

Foreman turns to take one last look, just at the end of the corridor. Chase’s eyes are closed, and he seems, for all intents and purposes, fast asleep again. He still looks pale and small against the whiteness of the room, and despite the stubble on his face, he looks younger than he actually is. It makes something inside Foreman ache to see him like this, when he’s normally so full of life and movement.

He’ll come back later, he decides. No matter how tired he is. Even if it’s only to let Chase know what Cofield decides. Even if it’s just for a few minutes, he’ll come back. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to rest otherwise.

_Coward_ , House had called him. _Doesn’t make sense_ , he’d said. _Why would you want to protect him?_ he’d asked.

Foreman’s too tired to focus on the possible answers. He knows them, he thinks. At least it feels like he does. But he’s got barely an hour and a half, tops, to sleep before he has to go back to work, and his bed is warm, and he can’t focus on this right now.

The thoughts hover, though, barely on the periphery of his consciousness. He’ll think about them later, he decides. After he’s seen Chase again.

He’s asleep within moments.

Foreman goes straight up to Chase’s room the moment he’s done showing Dr. Cofield out of the hospital. He’s quite sure he won’t be the first to break the news, but he wants to be there anyway.

Sure enough, he arrives to find Adams, Park, and Taub already with Chase. Taub is in the chair, while Adams and Park perch on the bed on either side of Chase. Park is telling him something quite animatedly when Foreman enters, but she stops when she sees him.

“Hey,” greets Foreman.

“Hi,” Chase says, raising his hand in a short wave.

“How are you feeling?” Foreman asks, going to stand next to Chase’s bed.

Chase shrugs. “Dunno. Fine, I guess.”

He looks a bit better than he had last night. There’s more color to him, and he’d been smiling a little at something Park had been saying when Foreman entered.

“I guess they already told you all about it,” Foreman says, putting his hands in his pockets.

Chase nods. “Yeah. Nobody’s fault, huh.”

“Nobody’s fault,” Foreman confirms.

“You agree?” Chase asks.

Foreman looks him in the eye. “Yes. Do you?”

Taub, Park, and Adams all turn to look at Chase, waiting for his reply. Chase doesn’t acknowledge it; instead he maintains eye contact with Foreman, and then settles further back into his pillows. “You should go home, Foreman,” he says. “Get some rest.”

“I’m not the one in a hospital bed,” Foreman reminds him wryly.

“You still need sleep,” Chase retorts. “You guys too,” he tells Park and Adams. “You’ve been here all night.”

“I’m okay,” Adams says at once.

“Yeah, I’ve had five Red Bulls, I’ll be okay,” Park agrees.

“Five?” repeats Taub incredulously. “ _Five_? How are you alive?”

“Five is nothing,” Chase says with a grin. “I’ve had more than that in a single night.”

“How many more?” Park asks with interest.

“And _why_?” Adams adds.

“Anatomy final in med school,” Chase tells them. “I had seven Red Bulls the night before the exam because I was convinced I’d fail unless I studied all night.”

“Did it work?” Taub asks, looking intrigued in spite of himself.

Chase nods. “Oh, yeah. I slept for fifteen hours after the exam, though.” He grins at Park. “Enjoy the crash.”

“What a great example to set,” Foreman mutters dryly, pretending to disapprove.

“I’m not her dad,” Chase says, “and I never claimed to be a good role model.”

Foreman rolls his eyes. “Clearly.” Then he turns to Park and Adams. “He’s right, though. Take the day off, both of you. You must be tired.”

It seems they’ve been waiting for him to say it; both of them get to their feet, saying their goodbyes to Chase. Park looks like she actually will crash any moment, while Adams keeps hiding her yawns delicately behind her hand. Park thumps Chase’s right shoulder, apologizing when he winces at her enthusiasm, and Adams leans in to give him a short hug, and then they’re both gone.

“Can I go home too?” Taub asks hopefully.

“No,” Foreman says shortly, sitting down in the space Park has just vacated. “You had the night off.”

“I barely slept!” Taub protests. “I’m stressed too, you know! Plus I have to take the girls today, I’m gonna need my rest.”

“Have some Red Bull,” Chase suggests with a grin.

“I will not,” declares Taub. “I don’t want to die of a heart attack at this age, thank you very much.”

“One Red Bull won’t do anything,” Chase snorts.

“And heart attacks are common at your age anyway,” Foreman adds, grinning.

“Ha, ha,” says Taub sarcastically. “Glad to see nothing can dull your razor-sharp wit.”

Chase responds with a mock salute and a cheeky grin.

“Go home, Taub,” Foreman says in the end, giving in. “Come back in the evening.”

“My girls—” begins Taub.

“Fine, fine,” Foreman interrupts before he’s treated to another lecture about how hard parenting is and how he needs to be more accommodating of Taub’s needs. “But I’m giving you more clinic hours,” he adds.

Taub looks resigned. “Fine,” he mutters. Then he stands, and gives Chase a nod as he heads for the door. “See you later, Chase.”

“Bye,” Chase says. He waits till Taub is out of the room before turning and looking up at Foreman. “Do I have to kick you out too?”

“I’m going,” Foreman tells him. “Just wanted to come see you before I left.”

“I’m all right,” Chase tells him. “Really,” he adds.

“I know,” Foreman says. “How are your legs?”

There’s a pause as Chase wiggles his toes experimentally under the blanket, and then he says, “Okay, I guess. I’m probably gonna need physio.”

Foreman nods. “I already set up an appointment for you.” He checks his watch. “In a couple hours, actually.”

“Oh.” Chase looks surprised. “Thanks.”

Foreman waves it off. “It’s fine, Chase. Least I can do for you.”

“As my friend, or my boss?” inquires Chase.

“Both,” Foreman replies after a pause. “Chase, listen – you know you can take as much time off as you need, right? There’s no rush.”

“I know,” Chase says. “I’ll think about it.”

Foreman nods again, accepting that. “Anything you need, anything at all, you’re covered, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Another thought occurs to Foreman. “Oh, and by the way – Chase, it’s probably not safe for you to be alone after you’ve been discharged. At least the first few days. Just in case. If you want to hire someone, I can arrange that—”

“No,” Chase interrupts. “I’ll be fine, Foreman. Thank you, but I’ll manage.”

“How?” Foreman asks.

Chase has no answer to that.

“Look, it’s okay to ask for help—”

“I know it is,” Chase interrupts, before Foreman can even finish his sentence. “I _know_ , Foreman. That’s not the problem. I just… don’t think it’ll be necessary, that’s all.”

“And if something happens?” Foreman asks, trying his best not to lose his patience. “You’re still getting arrhythmias, and—"

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” Chase interjects. “Look, I just don’t want a stranger in my home all the time, especially when I can’t—” He stops short.

It makes sense, suddenly. Maybe if he wasn’t this tired, Foreman might have understood earlier. “Chase, it’s fine,” he says, tone softening. “You don’t have to hire anyone if you don’t want to. But,” he adds, “you have to agree to stay with someone.”

“Foreman!” Chase begins, exasperated.

“I’m not hearing it,” Foreman tells him flatly. “You have a choice between me and Taub. Wilson, if you want. It’s just for a few days,” he reminds Chase when it looks like he might refuse.

Chase sighs. “I’m not being offered a choice here, am I?”

Foreman grins a little. “No, not really.”

“Fine then, you,” Chase says in the end, resigned. “I’ve got room. But I swear to God, Foreman,” he adds warningly, “if you hover over me or smother me, I _will_ kill you.”

Foreman throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Got it. Promise I won’t hover or smother.”

“Good,” grumbles Chase.

“We’ll talk about it more when you’re discharged,” Foreman tells him, standing. “For now, though, I think you should get some rest, too.”

“I will if you will,” Chase retorts.

“Yeah, I’m going home now,” Foreman tells him, and then yawns. “See you later, Chase. Call me if you need anything,” he adds.

“Will do,” Chase replies, raising his hand to wave at him. “Bye, Foreman.”

“Bye, Chase.”

In hindsight, it’s probably Foreman’s fault for assuming Chase was going to cope with this like a normal, healthy adult. It’s a bit unfair to expect it from him, thinks Foreman wryly, when not a single one of them is even remotely in the vicinity of well-adjusted.

So yeah, the parade of one-night stands, the reticence, the refusal to seek professional help… Foreman can’t say he agrees, but he understands. Chase is coping the only way he knows how. All Foreman can really do is be there for him, keep reminding him he’s not alone, and then sit back and hope for the best.

The nun, though, was still… unexpected. And a fucking _disaster,_ to boot.

Again, Foreman might not agree – not by a long fucking shot – but he does understand. It’s not surprising, really, that Chase had been seeking some sort of connection, a way of knowing he’s not alone. He was just looking in the wrong place, is all.

Foreman’s just glad it’s all over, at this point. She’s being discharged, and he heard from the nurses she’s decided to go back to the monastery, and that’s the end of it. He hopes. He has no idea how Chase is taking this.

Should probably go check on him, he thinks.

He’s only just thought it when the door to his office opens. He looks up to see Chase standing there, looking hesitant, leaning on his crutches. “Hey,” he says, rising. “Chase, you all right?”

Chase nods, entering and letting the door fall shut behind him. “Yeah,” he says shortly. “Um… I’m okay.”

“Heard what happened,” Foreman says sympathetically, coming to stand on the other side of his desk.

Chase stops when he’s about a foot away from Foreman. “Yeah,” he says again. “She’s, um. Going back. Listen, Foreman, I—” He pauses, takes a deep breath, and then looks up. “I wanted to apologize. You were right, I wasn’t thinking straight, and I… I could’ve messed up really badly. Hell, I _did_. It wasn’t okay, and—”

“Chase,” interrupts Foreman. “Don’t worry about it. I know it was a one-time thing.” Well, he hopes.

Chase nods, looking relieved. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he repeats, and then looks away. “I thought – I thought I loved her. I thought she’d leave the monastery, and we could go surfing, and we’d be happy.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Foreman doesn’t know what to say. Somehow, he thinks pointing out that surfing is a bad idea for someone who’s relearning how to walk won’t go over well, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I messed up,” Chase admits, voice low. “Didn’t I?”

Well, this he can answer. “Yeah,” he says honestly. “You did. But I know you’re not gonna let it happen again.”

Chase nods again. “Yeah. I… I’m thinking of making an appointment, actually. For… um, therapy. Like you said.”

“That’s good,” Foreman says at once, smiling encouragingly. “That’s really good, Chase.”

“Yeah,” says Chase. “Gonna go back to Diagnostics, too.”

Foreman nods. He’s been expecting this. “You and House okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I think so. We, uh, spoke.” The way he says it makes Foreman thinks there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t pry. Whatever this is, it’s between Chase and House. Foreman’s not going to ask – it’s not his place.

Instead he says, “I’m glad, Chase.”

“Thank you,” Chase says, and gives him a small smile. “Uh… I think I’ll head home now. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“Just a minute,” Foreman says quickly, as Chase turns to leave.

Chase stops, looking at him expectantly.

“Six extra clinic hours,” Foreman tells him, grinning a little when Chase’s face falls.

“Thought you said getting knifed bought me anything I wanted!” Chase reminds him, looking outraged.

“And me letting you off for sleeping with a patient means you owe me,” Foreman counters. “You’re lucky it’s not more, Chase.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” groans Chase. “Fine. _Fine_.”

Foreman’s grin widens. “See you tomorrow in the clinics, then.”

Chase glowers at him. “Yeah, fine. You absolute dictator.”

“You flatter me,” Foreman says dryly, walking Chase to the door.

Chase stops again, one foot in the open doorway. “Thanks,” he says, voice so low Foreman almost doesn’t hear it.

“Oh.” Foreman’s taken aback. “You’re always welcome, Chase. You know that.”

Chase gives him another small smile, and then he’s turning to leave. Foreman watches him make his way painstakingly across the clinic and to the elevators that will take him down to the parking garage, and realizes that the strange feeling in his chest is relief.

Chase is going to be fine. Took him a while, but he can’t get much lower than rock-bottom, and now he’s taking steps to get back up. It’s a good thing.

_Coward,_ House had called him. Foreman still feels like one, and he’s still not sure why.

It doesn’t occur to Foreman until Chase decides to leave PPTH.

At first, Foreman attributes his strange melancholy to Chase’s decision to quit. Chase is one of his oldest friends in this place, and he genuinely enjoys spending time with him. They haven’t always been close, but that’s changed in the past few years, and Foreman realizes he’s sincerely sad to see Chase go.

Chase _wants_ to go, Foreman reminds himself. Chase should, in fact. He’s spent enough time in this place, and he deserves the chance to further his career, to see what else is out there for him. Foreman doesn’t have a right to stop him, and nor does he really want to.

Even if that means he’ll miss him.

He hugs Chase, and watches him leave, and tries not to think about how this is the last time Chase is walking out of here. He puts Chase’s locker keys away, and wonders how long it’ll be before the locker’s reassigned to someone else. And Chase’s parking space, too, and Foreman’s going to have to retire his ID number, remove his name from the list of current PPTH employees, and revoke his employee insurance… Maybe talk to House too, see if he wants to hire a fourth fellow or keep going with the three he still has—

It’s a lot of work to follow a simple “about time,” thinks Foreman.

He sits at his desk, brings his computer out of sleep mode. His hand hovers over the mouse as he debates what to do first. Removing Chase’s name from the system seems like a good place to start, but Foreman hesitates before opening the database of employees. It seems too permanent. It should be simple – it’s not the first time he’s had to do this, to oversee the resignation of someone he’s close to – and yet it’s not.

Foreman takes his hand off the mouse, turns off his monitor, and sits back in his chair.

It’s more than just missing Chase, he realizes. He wants Chase around. Not only because they’re friends, and Foreman is going to miss his company. It’s because he cares about Chase. He likes having him around. He’s gotten used to him, to seeing his car in the parking lot every morning. Seeing him in the Diagnostics conference room, in his usual spot at the table, holding his coffee and arguing with his colleagues. Seeing him in the OR, knowing that his patients are in the best of hands.

A lot has changed, since Foreman joined PPTH a decade ago. _He’s_ changed too, and of course, so has Chase. They all have. House and Wilson too.

But House and Wilson have always been a unit, a package deal. Foreman’s not stupid, he’s not deluding himself into thinking that House is going to stay after Wilson leaves, because there’s no puzzle that House could care about more than he cares about Wilson. House’s days here at PPTH are numbered, and Foreman’s well-aware of it.

That leaves him and Chase, out of all the people that had been here in the beginning.

Well, just him, soon. Chase is gone, like Cameron, like Cuddy, like House and Wilson soon.

Foreman doesn’t want to be the only one left. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Nothing he can do about it, though, he thinks morosely, absently tapping Chase’s ID against the tabletop.

_Coward_ , House had said.

Foreman understands now.

He doesn’t find House when he goes searching. Wilson’s not in his office, either. A look at the day’s logs tells Foreman that both of them have punched out some time ago. It gives Foreman a sinking feeling in his gut, one that’s confirmed when he goes to Diagnostics to find Taub sitting alone on one of the new sofas.

“Where is everyone?” he asks, sitting down next to his friend.

“Park and Adams went home some time ago,” Taub tells him. “My shift ended too, but…” He shrugs.

“House and Wilson?” Foreman asks quietly, already knowing what the answer will be.

“Left,” says Taub shortly. “Wilson’s tumor didn’t shrink at all.”

It’s not any easier to digest just because Foreman’s seen it coming. “Now what?” he asks, somber.

Taub shrugs again. “I don’t know. Guess it depends on what he’ll do. I’ll tell you one thing, though, this place is going to be _hell_ for a while. House will take it out on us, and we no longer have Chase to act as a buffer.”

Foreman exhales slowly through his nose, sitting back and sinking into the sofa next to Taub. “I didn’t want him to go,” he admits, voice low.

“Why’d you let him, then?” Taub asks.

Foreman snorts. “You try stopping Chase when he’s set his mind to something.”

“I’ll miss him,” Taub says, a moment later.

“Me, too,” replies Foreman. “Hell, I already do. Didn’t think it’d be this bad, but it is.”

“You’ve known him the longest out of all of us, other than House and Wilson,” muses Taub. “Makes sense you’d miss him.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that,” Foreman says. “He’s gone, and… and I feel alone, here. Yeah, I know I’m not,” he adds quickly when Taub opens his mouth. “I feel it, anyway.”

Taub doesn’t reply immediately. They sit in silence for a while, both of them lost in their own thoughts, and then Taub says, “You know, sometimes we don’t know how much we needed something till we no longer have it.”

“You talking about your wife again?” Foreman says after a pause.

“Yes, and no,” Taub says thoughtfully. “I loved her, you know. I still do. We weren’t good for each other, but I needed her in my life. And I was an idiot about it, never let myself admit it till it was too late. And I can’t do anything about it now.”

“Because she’s with Phil from Oregon.”

“Yes,” says Taub heavily. “And I hate to admit it, but he makes her happy. He’s better for her than I ever was.”

“I don’t know where you’re going with this,” Foreman says after a moment.

“Got off track for a moment,” admits Taub. “Look, what I’m trying to say is – do you really, honestly think that Chase could belong anywhere other than here?”

“I’m not going to be the one to hold him back, Taub,” Foreman says sharply. “He deserves the chance to find something better—”

“Not what I’m saying,” interrupts Taub. “You need him, Foreman. He keeps you in check, you know. Balances you out. And I don’t just mean professionally. Personally, too. You’re nicer when he’s around. He relaxes you, puts you at ease.”

“He does,” Foreman says after a few stunned seconds. He slumps further into the sofa. “He really does.”

Taub nods. “Took you a while to get there, huh,” he says wryly.

“Yeah,” sighs Foreman. “I didn’t really let myself think about it, you know.”

“About what?” asks Taub wryly, like he already knows the answer.

“About… being in love with him,” Foreman answers, haltingly. It's the first time he's said it out loud, or even admitted it to himself, but now that the words are out he finds that they're true.

“In retrospect, you spending the night by his sickbed should’ve been a big clue,” Taub says with a smirk. "Yeah, friends look after each other, but you really went above and beyond."

“Shut up,” mutters Foreman, feeling his face heat up. Then, pushing past the awkwardness and embarrassment of the confession, “What do I do about it?”

“Go tell him,” Taub answers simply. “Before he gets snatched up by another Phil-from-Oregon.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Foreman says, getting to his feet. “Hey, uh, thanks. For—”

“It’s nothing,” Taub says, waving him off. “Besides, you owe me now.”

Foreman rolls his eyes. “Go home, Taub.”

“Don’t think I won’t collect,” Taub calls after him as he walks away.

Foreman has a whole speech rehearsed and ready in his head by the time he knocks on Chase’s door, a half hour or so later. It evaporates the moment Chase opens the door, and Foreman gets a good look at him.

Chase is dressed in old, worn sweatpants and a gray shirt, looking softer and younger than Foreman has ever seen him. He looks surprised to see Foreman, eyes widening a little, and asks, “Hey, Foreman, what’s up?”

“Hey,” Foreman says, struggling to remember all the things he’s supposed to say.

“Did I forget something?” Chase asks, opening the door wider so that he can stand in the entrance to his apartment, leaning against the door-frame. “Wait – Foreman, are you all right? You look weird—”

“I want you around,” Foreman blurts, cutting Chase short.

“What, like at PPTH?” Chase asks, looking even more confused. “Foreman, I’ve already quit, and I told you my reasons—”

“No, not that,” Foreman interjects. “I meant, in my life, Chase. I want you around in my life.”

“Well, of course I will be,” Chase says, after a moment. “We’re still friends, Foreman, that’s not going to stop just because we no longer work together.”

“But what if it does?” Foreman asks, frustrated that he doesn’t seem to be getting his point across. “Chase – I don’t want it to be like – like just meeting up for drinks a couple times a month, or calling each other on birthdays and Christmas and nothing else. I don’t want it to fade out until the only time we see each other is at some medical conference or whatever.”

“Okay, well, then it won’t be like that,” Chase replies, like he doesn’t understand where Foreman’s coming from. “We’ll keep hanging out, I’ll keep you updated on the job search, and we can still have game nights—”

Foreman’s patience was already worn thin; with this, he finally runs out. “Chase, you idiot,” he sighs.

Chase shuts up, bewilderment making place for indignation. “What—”

“I want you in my life as more than just my employee, or my friend,” Foreman explains, finally finding his words. “You understand me?”

The bewilderment is back, but only for a second. Foreman watches as it dawns on Chase, and he says, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” says Foreman wryly. “Didn’t realize it until today.”

“You mean—” Chase makes a vague sort of gesture in the space between the two of them. “You want us to – to go out.”

“Yes,” says Foreman, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“Together.”

“Yes.”

“Like – like—” Now Chase is the one floundering for words. “Like a couple?” It’s more a question than a statement.

So Foreman answers. “Yes. If you want,” he adds. “Um. Nothing has to change if you don’t. We’ll pretend this never happened, and go on with our lives.” But he’s really hoping it doesn’t come to that.

Chase blinks a few times, rather rapidly. It appears he’s still trying to make sense of it all. “Um,” he says, and then, “why, though? Why now?”

“I got used to having you around,” Foreman admits after a moment. “Didn’t realize it till you almost died. House knew, I think, he figured it out. I didn’t, not until today.”

“’Cause I’m not going to be around any longer,” Chase completes.

Foreman nods. “Unless you want to be,” he says quietly. “Look – you make me better, Chase. In pretty much every way. And you and I, we’ve both tried to make it work with other people, and it never goes well. And I’m beginning to think that part of it is because you and I have been looking in the wrong places, you know? Maybe we were always gonna end up here. At least, I’d like to think so. I really think this can work, if we try.”

He’s played his cards the best he could. Now all he can do is wait.

Chase looks at him, gaze penetrating as he thinks it all over. Then he inhales, ducks his head, and lets out his breath long and slow. “You and me, huh,” he says, looking up. “So, what, are we just settling?”

“No,” says Foreman at once. He’s thought about this a lot on the drive over. “Just… taking a leap of faith.”

“You’ve never been one for faith,” Chase points out.

“Maybe I’m willing to try,” Foreman murmurs.

There is silence for a few moments. Chase’s hallway is dimly lit, wide and welcoming, and yet Foreman feels as if the walls are closing down on him with every second that goes by without an answer. Well, he tells himself morosely, if this goes badly – and it looks like it might – then at least he won’t be stuck seeing Chase at work every day.

Then Chase murmurs, “Leap of faith,” and the next thing Foreman knows, he’s kissing him.

Chase’s mouth is soft under Foreman’s, uncertain almost, as he feels him out. It takes Foreman only a moment, and then he responds with enthusiasm, unpocketing his hands so he can put his arms around Chase and pull him closer. Chase lets out a surprised little sound, but then he’s tangling his fingers into Foreman’s coat, keeping the kiss unbroken.

They’re both panting a little when they finally break apart. Neither of them make a move to separate, though, both of them leaning in until their foreheads are touching, their eyes still closed. Chase is warm and solid in Foreman’s arms, worn cotton under his fingers underlined by Chase’s body heat, the faint scent of coffee and Chase’s cologne, and it’s the most intimacy Foreman has had in years. Going by the way Chase’s fingers are trembling in Foreman’s coat, it’s the same for him.

He could have had this so much sooner, thinks Foreman, if only he’d let himself want it. Then again – maybe it was always going to be like this, and they’re right where they’re supposed to be.

It’s a comforting thought.

“Do you want to come in?” Chase whispers, his breath warm on Foreman’s skin.

Foreman opens his eyes, finds Chase smiling. He smiles back.

“I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> i would love some feedback, so please leave a comment! you can also find me on tumblr @[thelegendofwinchester](https://chesterbennington.co.vu), where i'm always up to talk about this show! 
> 
> love,  
> remy x


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